


First Meeting

by heartsdesire456



Series: Uncle Phil [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Crossover, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-25
Updated: 2013-09-25
Packaged: 2017-12-27 15:40:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/980678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartsdesire456/pseuds/heartsdesire456
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil had no idea what he was expecting, but this? The kid currently attempting to roll a heavy duffel bag full of his things off of him so he could get up off the floor?</p><p>Definitely not it.</p><p>2nd Fic to a series in which Phil is Stiles's uncle and Stiles and his friends are sneakier than Phil ever could have imagined. (Gen for this part, hinted M/M, eventual pairings to come)</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> Part 2, let's see how you guys find it!

Phil was worried he might have trouble finding the boy he was picking up at the airport, but he had only been waiting a short amount of time when he saw who could only be Stiles. The boy was tall and thin, nearly gangly, but there was no missing the eyes Phil hadn’t seen in eight years. It was like a kick to the gut to see his sister’s eyes again. He remembered his nephew looked like his sister when he was little, but even as he was now – nearly a man rather than a boy – Stiles looked just like his mother. 

“Stiles Stilinski?” he called as the boy drew nearer. When the kid spun in a circle, Phil knew he was right. “Stiles, I’m Phil Coulson,” he said, and Stiles eyed him and then smiled, hitching his backpack as he walked closer.

“Hi, I’m Stiles,” he said, wiggling his fingers from where his thumbs were hooked on the straps of his backpack. He eyed Phil. “Wow, no offense, but I was not at all expecting a dude in a suit waiting on me.”

Phil wasn’t sure how to respond. “How about we go get your bags?” he asked, and Stiles nodded.

“Sure,” he said, following Phil to the baggage claim area. “Sooo quick question!” Stiles started. “Do I call you ‘Mr. Coulson’ or ‘Uncle Phil’ or what? They sound kinda weird.” He made a face. “Yep totally weird. Can I call you ‘Phil’? Or do we stick with ‘hey dude’? I’m totally down with ‘hey dude!’ I can be all ‘hey dude!” and even if like thirty people look, at least you’ll know I meant you,” Stiles babbled. “Oh, hey! My stuff!” He headed over towards the conveyer belt as they reached the baggage claim area and grabbed the strap of his large duffel bag, only to give it a yank and rather than it come to him, he was pulled almost over, hanging onto the strap and yanking as he followed the bag down the conveyer belt, trying to dislodge it from beneath the bag next to it.

Phil stared blankly as Stiles made it a good twenty feet before he finally snatched the bag free and flew backwards onto the floor, the bag landing on top of him much to the amusement of a couple who laughed at him. Phil had no idea what he was expecting, but this? The kid currently attempting to roll a heavy duffel bag full of his things off of him so he could get up off the floor?

Definitely not it.

“I’m okay!” Stiles announced as he got to his feet and stumbled over to Phil with a sheepish grin. “We’re good, dude!”

Phil offered a fixed smile. “You can call me Phil,” he said, offering to take Stiles’s backpack so he could sling the duffel bag over his back. “This way,” he said, guiding Stiles in the right direction. 

“Sweet,” Stiles said, falling into step with him. “So Phil,” he started. “What am I in for? Do you work all the time? Do you have a wife? Roommate? Am I gonna be getting in your way? Are there like… ground rules I should know?” 

Phil chuckled. “I usually work all the time, but I’m taking off while you’re here. It would be irresponsible to leave a seventeen year old alone ninety percent of the time he’s with me.” He sighed. “No, no wife, no roommate. You get the spare bedroom, not a couch if that is what you were asking. And as for ground rules, you’re not a little kid so not anything dramatic,” Phil said simply. “Obviously you can’t just disappear for days on end. No visitors in my apartment and no drugs or alcohol because I could get arrested and your father might shoot me if somebody you make friends with drugs you and steals everything from my house,” he warned and Stiles shot him a surprised look. “Hey, it’s New York,” Phil said and Stiles snorted.

“The sad thing is, that doesn’t even sound that bad after all the stuff we’ve had going on back home,” he said with a sad smile.

Phil nodded. “Your father mentioned things haven’t been good. You don’t have to talk about any of it if you don’t want. I won’t ask you anything.”

Stiles smiled and nodded. “Thanks,” he said softly. “So, do you have a car or are we taking a train or something?” he asked.

Phil kept his face plain as he nodded towards the exit to the parking garage. “This way,” he said, amused by Stiles already.

~

When they got to Phil’s building, Stiles seemed reluctant to part with Phil’s car. He kept going on about how ‘she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen – even more beautiful than Lydia Martin!’ and Phil couldn’t help but smile. Stiles seemed like he was going to be a bit overwhelming, but he was definitely entertaining. Phil still hated taking the elevator, but with his still-recuperating body he had no hope of making it up six floors of stairs without his chest being sore for a while afterwards. Stiles probably wouldn’t like climbing up six floors with his gigantic duffel bag either, so Phil didn’t feel as bad as he usually did about his lessened mobility.

When they got out of the elevator and turned the corner, Phil tensed as soon as he saw Clint coming out of the stairwell. “No,” he said firmly, stalking past the door to the stairs, heading to his apartment.

“No?” Clint asked, frowning. “No what-“

“No you can’t be here,” Phil argued, glancing at Stiles, who was just watching curiously. “I’m off work. You can’t be here.”

Clint huffed, rolling his eyes. “Since when? I come visit all the time-“

“I’ve got a guest, if you didn’t notice, so no. You can’t,” Phil countered.

Clint glanced at Stiles, who just offered him a wary smile. “Yo,” Stiles said with an awkward wave.

Clint turned back to Phil curiously. “Who’s the kid?”

“Nephew,” Phil said, and Clint frowned.

“I didn’t know you had any siblings. You never talk about any,” he said almost in an accusatory tone, clearly suspicious.

Phil winced at knowing Stiles was _right there_ as he spoke again. “Well my sister died over eight years ago, so that’s probably why.” He saw Stiles look down quickly, and glared at Clint in response. Clint just gave him a wide-eyed, apologetic look.

“Shit, I’m sorry, Boss,” he muttered. 

Phil smiled with a shrug. “Just let me call you later. I can’t really have you over here when I’m looking after someone else’s son. Even if he’s not a child, I didn’t tell his dad I’d let him come stay here just to get _you_ involved,” he said, giving Clint a look that he knew Clint would understand as ‘spies and superheroes’, not him specifically.

Clint rolled his eyes. “You say that like I’m a bad influence-“

“I am _not_ leaving you around a seventeen year old boy,” Phil said with an amused smile. “You practically are a seventeen year old in a thirty-six year old body.”

Clint grinned. “Damn straight!” he said, then waved at Stiles. “I’ll let you keep your uncle for now, Kid, but I shall return,” he said dramatically, turning to leave.

“No you won’t!” Phil called after him, then sighed, shaking his head as he opened the door. “Sorry about that. He won’t be back.”

Stiles just bit back a snicker. “So I don’t get sexiled? That’s good to know!” he said as he followed Phil inside, dropping his bag as soon as the door was shut. “Wow that’s heavy,” he said, dragging it after him.

Phil led him to the living room before he stopped, Stiles’s remark fully penetrating his thoughts. “Wait. _Sexiled_?” he asked in confusion.

Stiles giggled – honest to God _giggled_ \- with an eye roll. “Dude, I’m not blind. You and your boyfriend aren’t subtle with the flirting-“

“Flirting?!” Phil asked, shaking his head. “Oh no, Clint just jokes. He wasn’t flirting.”

Stiles raised an eyebrow. “Seriously? That _wasn’t_ flirting?” He shook his head. “I hate to imagine what that dude looks like when he’s flirting if that’s _not_ flirting.”

Phil actually chuckled. “I shudder to think,” he agreed, then nodded to the hall. “I’ll show you your room,” he said, settling the conversation.

~

At dinner that first night, Phil tried to get to know Stiles somewhat. “So, Stiles. What do you do back home? Do you have any hobbies?”

Stiles shrugged, pushing at the noodles on his plate. “I play lacrosse. Well, kind of,” he said, making a face. “I was a bench warmer for pretty much every game except the championship game last year.”

Phil hummed. “Lacrosse. That’s pretty different. What’s school like? Lots of friends?” he asked politely.

Stiles chuckled. “Not exactly,” he said, shrugging. “Until this year, it was pretty much just my best friend, Scott. We’ve been friends since we were little. Although, the way things have been he’s kinda… got other friends now,” he said, and Phil belatedly remembered that Stiles had lost friends.

“How is school?” Phil asked, and Stiles chuckled softly.

“Surprising to most people, I’ve actually got good grades,” he said. He shrugged. “I’m actually probably in the top ten of my class. My friend Lydia is a certifiable genius. Like, they got her tested and everything. She’s kind of incredible.” He chuckled. “The crazy thing is, she’s less popular now that she’s openly brilliant, but I always knew she was that smart.” 

Phil was surprised. He didn’t take a kid getting involved in gang violence – or so John had made it sound – to be an academically high achieving student with other friends with academic success. Usually troubled children’s school work suffered as well. “Oh? They had her _tested_?” he asked.

Stiles nodded. “Yeah, she’s got an IQ of like one seventy-five. She’s a total genius. She’s beautiful and smart. Absolutely perfect,” he said with an absent smile.

Phil smirked. “Sounds like more than a friend to me.”

Stiles smiled and sighed. “Oh man, I was in love with her from the day she stole my purple crayon in the third grade.” He smiled sadly. “I don’t know, things changed recently. I guess she finally started noticing me and I realized that even if she’s beautiful and intelligent, she’s… just not the dream girl I thought.” He shrugged. “It’s cool though,” he said, popping a noodle in his mouth. “It’s nice having a friend who understands things above a fifth grade level for once,” he joked.

Phil nodded. “So no girlfriend then?” he asked and Stiles sighed. 

“No, and probably not gonna happen anytime soon.” He made a face. “I seem to be cursed or something. The only two girls who have actively shown interest in me both died so… yeah, I should probably just be the perpetual third wheel.” He frowned. “Um… well potential eighth wheel to two couples and a weird not-threesome.” He saw the look on Phil’s face and snickered. “Dude, just don’t ask. I don’t even want to know and I’m their friend.”

Phil laughed, amused. “What about a job? You got one of those?”

Stiles shook his head. “Nah, my dad likes me focusing on school and stuff. Plus I do all the cooking and cleaning and things around the house, so if we were both working all the time nobody would eat or have clean laundry, so it’s probably better this way.”

“Your dad never remarried?” Phil asked, genuinely surprised. It had been over eight years since his wife had died and there couldn’t be a lack of women who would be interested in the Sheriff of their town.

Stiles’s face darkened some and he looked down, shoulders slack. “No, he’s never dated anybody,” he said softly and Phil could see immediately the boy who had been forced to grow up. He could see worry etched into the dark circles under Stiles’s eyes. It was a burden far too heavy for a seventeen year old kid. “Scott and I totally tried to set him up with Scott’s mom but they just… they’re friends, nothing more.” He shrugged. “I don’t know, I guess he just doesn’t want to bother at his age.” He smiled sadly. “It’s not like he’s _old_ ,” Stiles said, looking down as he rubbed a hand over his head. “Not really.”

Phil didn’t really know what to say. He didn’t want to let the silence fall but he wasn’t sure how to respond to that. “Well… statistically, law enforcement careers aren’t great for relationships. More divorces than other jobs and stuff like that. Maybe he doesn’t think his job can accommodate dating at his age? He may not be _old_ but he’s got to be around my age, and I’m pretty much the same way.” He gave Stiles a comforting look. “The sad truth of being middle aged is that you can’t just ‘give dating a shot’ when you have a real career and responsibilities there. It’s a big commitment just to try meeting someone.”

Stiles shrugged. “I guess. I mean, I’m obviously no expert in dating either.” He snorted. “Maybe that’s the problem. Women see me and him together and realize ‘oh crap, the kid got that personality from somewhere!’,” he joked.

Phil chuckled. “You a lot like your father?” he asked, and Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Oh my God, people call me a smartass and then go all ‘I expected better from the Sheriff’s kid’ and it’s like they’ve _never_ met my dad. He’s more of a smartass than I ever will be. Sarcasm is his middle name,” he said with a fond grin. Phil saw Stiles glance at the hall, then look down at his half-eaten food, and he smiled knowingly.

“Want to go call your dad?” he asked, and Stiles jumped, clearly surprised Phil read him. Phil nodded his head. “Go on. I’m sure you’re dying to make sure he’s alright.”

Stiles gave Phil an amused smirk. “Yeah, I think I will,” he said, nodding as he stood and left the table. Phil chuckled and stood to clear the table. Maybe Stiles wouldn’t be too bad to have around after all.


End file.
